


indulgence

by khayr



Series: at the intersection of ideals and impulse [1]
Category: RWBY
Genre: F/M, Multi, glynderpin, james ironwood throws a birthday party and no one wants to be there, welcome to hell!!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:06:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5903590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khayr/pseuds/khayr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was just about to flag down the bartender when her eyes caught something across the other side of the bar. A sinewy, dark-haired woman was perched there, staring intently back at her with an intrigued smirk curling across her lips. The back of Glynda’s neck prickled uncomfortably in recognition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to lionsenpai and kibitzer for dragging me into RAREPAIR HELL..................... I don't have an excuse for this fic (and I'm not sorry lol)

_It’s just a weekend trip_ , he’d said. _We’ll be back to Beacon before you know it_ , he’d said.  
  
Despite all of Glynda’s better judgement- she’d known no matter how short the stay that it’d be miserable- she’d agreed to go with him. To Atlas. For Ironwood’s birthday. Not only was it snowing, but she’d have to spend the weekend immersed in fancy cocktail parties that she had no desire to attend. She had a pile of midterms to grade on her desk back at campus… and her students, no matter how eccentric, always took a large priority over Ironwood’s hurt feelings.  
  
“I’m never letting you sweet-talk me into this again,” she grumbled, leaning across the center console of the car to fix Ozpin’s tie and ignoring the amused look he was giving her, “Next year we send him a card and spend the weekend at home.”  
  
“You said that last year,” he pointed out, reaching into the back seat for his cane and hauling himself out of the driver’s side, “And yet here you are.” Glynda held her tongue despite the choice words she felt ready to spill out, taking a long breath before getting out of the car after him and heading into the large, marble building looming over them. It was a different venue from last year but it hardly mattered; she felt the same cloying gaudiness of upper-class social circles that she so desperately wanted to avoid. Glynda was a huntress- not a socialite- and to top it all off the huntsman at her side was already anxiously fiddling with his wedding band by the time they reached the top step.  
  
Great. This was going to be the longest evening of her life.  
  
“Who’s designated driver?” she murmured into his ear as they crossed the threshold, leaning close to take his arm and keeping her voice low, “Don’t think you’re going to get away with a repeat of last year.” Ozpin offered a mild smile in return, nodding at a passing dignitary.  
  
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” he tilted his head to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, his shoulders losing some of the tense posture he’d been carrying since they’d left the hotel an hour ago. “Can we agree on one or two drinks each and just raid the minibar when we get back?” She snorted.  
  
“Deal.” She ghosted her fingers over the back of his hand, her touch feather light. “But if I catch you breaking the bargain I don’t need to tell you how that’s going to go for you.”  
  
“Mm, I know.” Ozpin caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his gaze in time to watch Ironwood’s approach. He fixed a pleasant expression on his face even as Glynda bristled next to him.  
  
“Ozpin, Glynda,” James said, smiling at the two of them, “So glad you could make it. Was certainly nice of the snow to hold out until after you arrived. Forecast says it’s supposed to get worse later.” Glynda let out a low, disgruntled sound; she hated small talk and loathed it even more when it was coming from Ironwood’s mouth. Her fingers flexed subconsciously against Ozpin’s arm.  
  
“A birthday only comes once a year, James. It’s well worth a weekend visit.” Ozpin’s tone was pleasant, a stark contrast to the annoyed storm brewing beside him. He leaned his weight against his cane while he adjusted his footing a little, giving Glynda a subtle prod with his elbow as he did so.  
  
She took the hint.  
  
“Yes, it was _easy_ fitting it in among all of the midterms at Beacon.” She managed a slightly forced smile but couldn’t quite take the edge out of her voice. Honestly. There were a million other things she needed to be doing and pandering to their circle of friends was not on the list.  
  
They were already here though, and with the snowstorm sweeping in off the southern shore there was no way they’d be leaving until the end of the weekend. She was trapped regardless.  
  
Glynda left Ozpin to chat amicably with Ironwood, winding her way through groups of military officials and dignitaries that she had no real desire to interact with. They were probably relatively important in one way or another- perhaps footnotes in field reports she’d occasionally had to sift through- but for her to get trapped in conversation with any of them was not how she was going to spend the evening if she had any say in it. If she wanted to be bored to death she’d have stayed home and listened to one of Port’s lectures instead.  
  
The bar was empty so early in the evening- a small blessing- and Glynda slid into a stool at the end with a soft grunt. She’d promised Ozpin to stick to a drink or two until they’d gotten back to their hotel… but he had never specified what _kind_ of drink. The corner of her mouth quirked in what might have passed as a rueful smile. These events always went better if she was more than a little tipsy, that was for certain.  
  
She was just about to flag down the bartender when her eyes caught something across the other side of the bar. A sinewy, dark-haired woman was perched there, staring intently back at her with an intrigued smirk curling across her lips. The back of Glynda’s neck prickled uncomfortably in recognition.  
  
“Black Russian,” she said to the bartender, not taking her eyes off of Cinder Fall at the other end of the bar. It was an interesting predicament; Glynda wasn’t quite sure if it was a good thing that she would rather approach the other woman over the dignitaries in the room, but here she was considering doing just that. She had matched her in combat, at least… and perhaps she’d provide better conversation than mouldering military men.  
  
Glynda resigned that this would probably be a poor decision, but she took her drink in hand and carefully moved down around the curve of the bar towards the other woman. The closer she got the wider Cinder smiled until the expression had turned into a broad, toothy grin. She swirled the contents of her glass- condensation dripping off of it perhaps a little more than usual- and leaned back in her stool when Glynda slid into the empty place next to her without a word. They sat in tense quiet for a short stretch, Cinder giving her an appreciative once-over and Glynda silently noting the faint scent of woodsmoke that lingered in the air.  
  
“Well, well,” she murmured, “Look what the cat dragged in.”  
  
“You must keep interesting company.” Glynda cut her off, taking a sip from her glass. “I find it hard to believe your name is on the guest list.”    
  
It struck Glynda quite suddenly that she could be here for some part of her elaborate plan. There certainly were enough important people in this room that would make an easy target. Her eyes narrowed and she shot the other woman a sidelong glance.  
  
“It’s not.” Cinder chuckled- a low, sultry sound- and set her drink down on the counter. “General Ironwood couldn’t secure a paper bag, let alone a party with this many people invited. There are certainly enough ways in and out of this building.” Her gaze wandered around the room, never lingering in one place for too long.  
  
“So why are you here?”  
  
“Open bar.” The woman offered her a smug smile as if the answer were that simple. “That and reminding Ironwood he’s not as competent as he thinks he is.”  
  
Glynda had to commend her on that, actually. Usually it was just her complaining and Ozpin’s quiet complacency- even if she knew he agreed- and yet Cinder Fall of all people was sitting next to her at a bar and _agreeing_ with her. The validation of her distaste appealed to her a little more than she wanted to admit, and silently Glynda resolved to continue the conversation as long as she was able.  
  
Besides... if she was here with her, Cinder couldn’t be causing trouble someplace else.  
  
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” she replied, draining the rest of her glass and signaling to the bartender to bring her another one, “He’s an absolute git.”  
  
This drew a grin from Cinder as she rested her chin against her hand, leaning closer. Her hair slid down over her shoulder in a long, dark swath and quite suddenly Glynda realized she’d definitely been staring too long. She turned her gaze to the new drink in front of her but couldn’t shake the uncomfortable prickle she felt of Cinder’s eyes intently on her.  
  
“ _Glynda Goodwitch_ ,” Cinder chided, picking up her glass and tilting it towards her in a mock toast. “If you keep that up then people will begin to _talk_ .”  
  
“Oh, fuck off.” The drink in her hand disappeared more quickly than the first had, her fist meeting the counter with a little more force than she had meant when she put it down. “ _That’s_ the least of my worries.” Her words came out heated, and with a bit more weight than she had really intended; Cinder raised an eyebrow but Glynda only met her look with an even gaze.  
  
A challenge. Cinder’s lips curled into a grin.  
  
Glynda had expected her to have a retort for that, but the other woman didn’t respond immediately. When she looked to Cinder the corner of the woman’s mouth twitched, her eyes fixated on the hand swirling the ice in her empty glass. It occurred to Glynda quite suddenly that she was looking not at the glass, but at the wedding band around her own finger.  
  
“Oh, excuse me.” Cinder nodded towards the ring and lifted her glass to take a sip. “I wasn’t aware. I’d assumed you might _actually_ be hitting on me, Goodwitch.”  
  
Glynda snorted quietly. “I was.”  
  
Cinder’s mouth formed a silent ‘o’, gaze dipping briefly to the counter before skimming the room again. It looked as if Glynda had actually been able to surprise the other woman. The thought put a smug grin at the corner of her mouth as she leaned her chin onto the palm of her hand.  
  
“Making friends?” Ozpin’s voice cut through the loaded silence as he approached, Cinder’s eyes following the way his hand smoothed over Glynda’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He offered Cinder a warm smile in return. “Anyone I should meet?”  
  
“Maybe.” Glynda shot her a look, an eyebrow raised. “If she’s interested.”  
  
Cinder looked between the two of them only briefly before a wicked smile curled across her lips. That was a yes, then. Glynda was hardly surprised at her response if she was being honest with herself. Idly she glanced over Ozpin’s shoulder to where she could see Ironwood staring in their direction on high alert.  
  
Time to go.  
  
“It’s a pleasure,” Cinder drawled, “Although I’m sure you already know who I am.”  
  
Cinder finished her drink and placed it beside Glynda’s empty glass on the counter before she stood, smoothing the fabric of her dress as she did so. Ozpin seemed to spot her looking casually behind him as Glynda just had, but it did nothing to change the relaxed expression on his face.  
  
“He noticed you about ten minutes ago,” Ozpin hadn’t moved to acknowledge who Cinder was actually looking at, only shifting enough to allow Glynda to stand beside him. He slid his arm around her back, his hand settling casually at her waist in a common tactic they employed on many occasions to avoid other obligations. “I managed to convince him that Glynda invited you, but he’s being particularly bullheaded this evening. To be honest, he’s not quite buying it.”  
  
“You’re saying that you told him you had to collect your wife and her date from the bar?” Cinder raised an eyebrow but moved seamlessly with the two of them when they headed casually for the door. A bold- if stupid- tactic, although Glynda was hardly surprised it had worked on Ironwood. There was more to Ozpin than met the eye and she knew him far too well to doubt him on wiggling their way out of social gatherings.  
  
“Something like that.” They crossed the threshold into the chill of the night and after a brief pause Cinder loosely wound her fingers around Ozpin’s other arm to seal the deal. There was a smile someplace in the way that his eyes crinkled at the action, although if it were just from their plus one- or something else entirely- Glynda couldn’t tell.  
  
Glynda had been quiet through their exit, but before they’d stepped down the stairs and out of sight she cast a quick glance behind her. Ironwood had moved to where they’d been sitting at the bar and was staring after them, that scrutinizing gaze of his trying to figure out what, exactly, they’d just pulled on him. She flashed a broad smirk at him in response, which only seemed to disturb him further. He frowned.  
  
The standoff belonged to her, however, as he did not follow them out.  
  
“This seems to beg the question of if you actually intend to join us, or if toying with Ironwood was your only goal for the night.” Ozpin bluntly cut the silence when they’d reached the street, pausing at the curb to allow a car to ease past along the snowy road. Despite the chilly temperature Cinder hardly seemed bothered. She released his arm and ran her fingers through her hair, regarding the two of them for a moment.  
  
“Let’s make an evening of it,” she replied, giving Glynda a wicked smile that only made the other woman roll her eyes. “You can _both_ buy me a drink.”  
  
“No need.” Glynda narrowed her gaze, but the faintest trace of a smirk curled at the corner of her mouth. “Hotel room has a minibar.”

  
  
.. 

  
The first thing Glynda noticed when she woke the following morning was the familiar bulk of Ozpin curled under her arm, and the second was the pounding headache that only reminded her why chugging an entire bottle of wine was- relatively speaking- a poor decision. The third was a warm, solid lump half at her side and half draped over her abdomen. She ran her free hand over her face, trying to sort the details of the previous evening with as much clarity as she could in her half-asleep state. When she shifted her stiff muscles the faintest scent of woodsmoke hit her nose.  
  
_Oh_.  
  
So that hadn’t been a dream after all. The idea of it had been so absurd that Glynda had simply assumed she’d imagined it, but here she was curled in bed with her husband on one side and an _international criminal_ on the other. It was surprisingly comfortable; Cinder radiated far more warmth than the average person had any right to, but it made everything far cozier despite the six inches of snow resting on the window ledge outside. She was fairly certain the excuse of ‘ _if she’s in here she isn’t out committing crime_ ’ was not something that she should be using to try to justify this.  
  
Besides... if her hazy memory of the night before was accurate, between Ozpin and Cinder they’d positively spoiled her _rotten_. Glynda still wasn’t sure exactly what she’d done to deserve it, but it didn’t seem worth questioning anything the morning after.  
  
She shifted her weight against the mattress and finally the vaguely-Ozpin shaped lump next to her let out a soft, disgruntled sound. When he tried to pull the blankets up over his head again she tightened the arm curled around him into a gentle- but firm- squeeze. That movement alone seemed to disturb Cinder as well; Glynda confirmed the other woman was still half asleep when a second noise that mimicked Ozpin’s came from under the covers.  
  
“Don’t tell me you’re both going to do this,” she muttered, fingers ruffling through what she could reach of Ozpin’s hair, “Someone has to get up and bring me coffee.”  
  
“Get it yourself,” the lump that Glynda assumed was Cinder grumbled in response. After some struggling with the tangle of blankets she surfaced on her elbows, squinting blearily in the light of the room. “And bring me some, too.”  
  
Glynda snorted and pushed her back over, then rolled to bury her face into the crook of Ozpin’s neck. “Oz.”  
  
A feeble, disgruntled sound was the only response.  
  
“Oz,” she tried again, rubbing her nose against his cheek even when he tried to scrunch away from her with another annoyed grumble, “It’s your turn to make breakfast anyway.”  
  
“If you think that I’m cooking you two breakfast with a hangover the size of the moon you are out of your _mind_ , darling.” He finally gave in, rolling over and stretching himself across Glynda to rummage around in the bedside drawer. “But I _will_ buy it.”  
  
The moment after he’d procured a menu from the assorted papers Cinder snatched it from his fingertips, curling in at Glynda’s other side while Ozpin settled back to his original position.  
  
“ _Durango’s_?” Cinder raised an eyebrow, leafing through the pages, “Certainly sounds a little… pedestrian, don’t you think?”  
  
“Take it or leave it,” he replied, raising his own brow to mimic her expression, “Unless you want to rendezvous with James Ironwood at _La Caille_ in our place. I think reservations were for nine o’clock?” Ozpin looked to clock on the table. It was eleven-thirty. “Or perhaps not.”

The three of them looked at each other before the moment dissolved into quiet chuckling.  
  
“Shady street corner diner it is,” Glynda said, plucking the menu from Cinder’s hands and leaning back so they could all look through at the same time, “Although Oz’s judgement is usually pretty solid.”  
  
She leaned to press a kiss against his temple, and then back over to give one to Cinder for good measure. Ozpin propped his chin on Glynda’s shoulder and looked far closer to drifting back to sleep than actually picking something to order for breakfast.  
  
The short lull of quiet was broken by Ozpin’s scroll chirping to life on the bedside table. Cinder reached for it first, holding it up to reveal that it was Ironwood calling. She grinned wickedly and was about to answer it herself when Glynda flicked her fingers at the device and launched it across the room with her semblance, her eyes narrowed.  
  
“I’ll fix that mess later,” Ozpin chuckled, waving his hand dismissively in the direction his scroll had disappeared in, “Pick what you want so I can get some poor delivery driver to bring it over.”  
  
“Not going to go get it yourself?” Cinder wound her finger into a loose piece of Glynda’s hair and cast him an amused look. “It looks like a _beautiful_ day, Ozpin.”  
  
“I believe with six inches of snow on the sidewalk I’d much rather pay someone to do it for me.” He smiled blithely back at her, finally rousing enough energy to grab his glasses and haul himself out of bed in search of wherever his phone had landed. “Besides, I’m perfectly comfortable in here.”  
  
By some small blessing his scroll was intact, and now that he could actually look at the screen he cringed at the three missed calls and six texts from Ironwood. Glynda seemed to realize what he was looking at and shook her head, patting the empty spot he’d left on the mattress until he returned and slid back under the blankets with the two of them.  
  
“Breakfast first,” she murmured, slinging one arm around Cinder’s shoulders to pull her closer and stroking the underside of Ozpin’s jaw with her other hand, “We’ll deal with that later.”


End file.
